


some things stay sweet forever

by returnsandreturns



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Babies, Domestic Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, and having feelings about it, coming soon: ANGST, i'm a hormonal mess, the angst is done, this is a fic about matt murdock holding infants
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-05-14 16:11:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5749654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/returnsandreturns/pseuds/returnsandreturns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s so small, Foggy,” he says, which is not even what he meant to say, but it comes out in a confused reverent whisper. </p><p>“She’s indeed very tiny,” Foggy says, dropping down to his knees in front of Matt and tapping fingers against Matt’s leg before he slides them over Matt’s hand where it’s holding the baby under her armpit. “Can I please teach you how to hold a baby like it’s not going to detonate at any moment?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'M SPEED WRITING A BUNCH OF STUFF FOR PROMPTS [ON TUMBLR](http://returnsandreturns.tumblr.com) THIS WEEKEND AND THIS ONE RUINED MY LIFE. BABIES.

Matt doesn’t know what to _do_ with this baby.

Nelson holidays are overwhelming in general, all noise and touches and candles burning and food cooking and Matt does well enough when he finds a corner to hide in, but apparently a cousin whose name he can’t recall thinks it’s a good idea, since he’s not mingling, to leave her baby with him “just for a few minutes, gotta take a smoke break.”

It’s been fifteen minutes. So far, the baby hasn’t done anything besides coo and giggle and squirm around in his arms, which he’s holding around it—probably too tightly, but what if he _drops it_? What if it _jumps? What if it cries?_

“Oh my _god_ , this is cute,” Foggy says, from nearby, and Matt looks up to hear his phone’s camera going off. “You look so terrified, buddy.”

“It’s so small, Foggy,” he says, which is not even what he meant to say, but it comes out in a confused reverent whisper.

“She’s indeed very tiny,” Foggy says, dropping down to his knees in front of Matt and tapping fingers against Matt’s leg before he slides them over Matt’s hand where it’s holding the baby under her armpit. “Can I please teach you how to hold a baby like it’s not going to detonate at any moment?”

“Okay,” Matt agrees, helplessly, letting Foggy move him and the baby around until she’s curled up and babbling in the circle of his arms, one of his hands supporting her head.

“There,” Foggy says.

The baby kicks a little at Matt’s arm, a tiny wrinkled foot, and Matt feels almost more overwhelmed because he can feel Foggy watching them. He’s making soft shushing sounds at her when suddenly she hiccups and makes a startled noise and _wails._ Matt makes a panicked face at Foggy.

“Oh, okay, pass her off, buddy,” Foggy says, laughing, and Matt hands her to him gratefully. She sniffles and cries and Foggy murmurs to her, softly, “Hi, sweetheart. I don’t know who you belong to but you must be related to me, you’ve got the lungs of a Nelson.”

She huffs out a few breaths and calms down a few moments later, and Matt’s pretty sure that Foggy’s bouncing her gently in his arms from the high-pitched little up and down noises she keeps making.

“You’re good with her,” Matt says. He feels really warm, and he’s not willing to interrogate that right now, just like he’s been steadily and with increasing frequency ignoring all the other times that Foggy’s made him feel warm and confused.

“My family’s really into procreating,” Foggy says. “I’ve had practice.”

Matt moves to sit on the floor next to him, reaching out to touch the soft downy hair on the baby’s head. Foggy’s fingers brush over his, and Matt angles his head towards him.

“Want to try again?” Foggy asks.

“No, that’s—” Matt starts, and then the baby wraps one of her hands around the finger he was stroking down her cheek. Matt’s eyes go wide, and he says, instead, “Okay, yeah.”

He hears Foggy’s camera a couple of more times after he’s got the baby tucked up against his chest, and Foggy says, “This is going in a family scrapbook, for sure.”

Matt smiles at him, tries not to think too hard about that.

*

Matt hears two distinct heartbeats walk into their office at Landman & Zach and looks up, confused.

“Do you have a—baby?” he asks.

“Yes,” Foggy says, seriously. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, but you’re a father now. You’ll probably want to marry me to keep from besmirching my honor.”

Matt stands up to walk closer.

“Whose baby?” he asks.

“You know that Mr. Landman recently married someone younger than us?” Foggy asks, and, when Matt nods, “Well, they spawned and produced this adorable ray of sunshine here. And apparently part of the ‘other duties as assigned’ they mentioned when we signed our contracts now includes babysitting.”

“He just let you wander off with his child?” Matt asks, reaching out to gently touch the baby’s arm.

“Yep,” Foggy says, brightly. “His exact words were ‘what’s your name—Neeson? What do you know about infants?’ and then just gave me his baby without waiting to hear my answer. His name is Phillip. Say hi.”

“Hi,” Matt murmurs, carefully taking the baby when Foggy lifts him up towards Matt. Phillip makes a gurgling noise and grabs Matt’s glasses, and Matt lets him, because, really, how do you argue with that.

Matt looks up when he realizes that Foggy’s heart is beating weirdly fast, asking, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Foggy says. “I’m good. He’s, uh. Chewing on your glasses.”

Matt very carefully takes his glasses away and slides them in his pocket, replacing them with his fingers, which Phillip grabs and kneads and bites at, making little happy noises.

Foggy moves to stand closer, carefully placing a hand on Matt’s back to get a better look.

“He’s a real cute kid,” he says. “Dark hair, little upturned nose, big old giant eyes. He’s gonna get away with a lot of shit, especially considering he’s worth more money than we’ll ever see in our _lives_.”

“He sounds cute,” Matt says, very slowly tracing his finger over the baby’s cheek, the bridge of his nose, a smooth forehead.

“Your form has really improved,” Foggy says.

“Your family has a thing about shoving Nelson babies into my arms,” Matt says, very carefully not thinking about Nelson babies too hard, either. It doesn’t really work. Phillip sighs and buries his head in Matt’s armpit, and Foggy’s warm and steady at his back. Matt’s _fucked_.

*

Foggy kisses Matt two hours after they sign the papers for their new office, for the first time. Matt kisses him back five seconds later, after he recovers from a heart attack.

Several months into them being an actual thing, Foggy says, pausing the movie he was describing for Matt on Netflix, “So, I broke and told my mom about us.”

“Yeah?” Matt asks. “Was she—happy?”

“She was overjoyed,” Foggy says. “She did make some noises about grandchildren but I made some noises back about adoption and— _ha_ , holy crap, it’s way too early to talk about _that_ , am I right. Rewind. My mom’s happy for us.”

Matt laughs, a surprised noise erupting from his chest.

“We can talk about it,” he says, quietly. “I’d like that—someday, maybe.”

“Really?” Foggy asks.

“Yeah,” Matt says, gracefully doesn’t mention that he’s thought about it before they were even close to being together because he’s pretty sure he’ll sound like a lunatic, “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m pretty good with Nelson babies.”

Foggy huffs out a quiet laugh, moving closer to wrap an arm around Matt.

“You know what,” Foggy says. “You really are.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt’s laying sideways on his bed with his head resting on Foggy’s stomach when Foggy asks, out of nowhere, voice heavy with sleep, “If we had a baby, what would you name it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M IN THE MIDDLE OF A PERSONAL CRISIS OVER THIS STORY AND AM JUST GOING TO ERRATICALLY WRITE IT UNTIL I CALM DOWN.
> 
> the timeline's iffy but look at [these pictures of Charlie Cox holding an infant](http://returnsandreturns.tumblr.com/post/137532750578/littlelovingmouse-returnsandreturns-update) instead of thinking about that

Matt’s laying sideways on his bed with his head resting on Foggy’s stomach when Foggy asks, out of nowhere, voice heavy with sleep, “If we had a baby, what would you name it?”

Matt smiles at the ceiling.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“I bet you’d name it Justice or something,” Foggy says. “Justice Thurgood Murdock.”

“I would _not_ name our child Justice,” Matt says, turning to press his face into Foggy’s stomach, the soft fabric of his sweater, “Or Thurgood, for that matter, even though it’s a respectable name.”

“They’d get beaten up by their peers every single day,” Foggy says.

They’re silent for awhile before Matt says, “Don’t you mean Nelson-Murdock?”

“Hmm?”

“For our—hypothetical baby’s name,” Matt clarifies.

“Oh. No, it should be Murdock,” Foggy says, reaching down to tap his fingers on Matt’s forehead. “Unless you feel particularly strong about hyphens.”

“Really?” Matt asks.

“Yeah, there are plenty of Nelsons roaming around this fine city,” Foggy says, yawning and sliding his fingers into Matt’s hair. “We could do with a couple more of you.”

Matt kisses his stomach before he shifts around to sprawl on top of Foggy, hiding his face in his shoulder and humming softly against his skin when Foggy wraps his arms around him.

“I want that,” he says, muffled against Foggy’s sweater. “With you.”

Foggy’s heart speeds up and Matt moves to kiss him until both of them are breathing fast and he’s straddling Foggy’s hips, licking into his mouth.

“Trying to get me pregnant, Murdock?” Foggy asks, sliding his hand under Matt’s shirt and over his back. Matt laughs, grins down at him.

“Might as well try, right?”

*

They keep it to themselves—because it’s really early and because it’s _theirs,_ almost a joke but not quite. And then Matt shows up to work with a black eye and blames it on tripping and falling, and Foggy says, “I love you, but I’m a little worried that you’re going to drop our baby someday.”

“Your _baby?_ ” Karen asks, dropping the files in her hand. “Please don’t tell me you have a secret baby.”

Matt ducks his head and smiles, and Foggy says, “Uhm, oops.”

“We don’t have a baby,” Matt says.

“It feels like there’s supposed to be a _yet_ at the end of that sentence,” Karen says, slowly.

“Yet,” Foggy repeats, and Karen gasps.

“ _Really_?” she asks, grin evident in her voice.

“Someday, not anytime soon,” Matt says, stepping closer to nudge his shoulder against Foggy’s. “Maybe when we’re less in debt and everything’s—calmer.”

“A _baby_ ,” Karen says. “Do you want to adopt?”

“Why, do you want to carry it for us?” Foggy asks, fake serious.

“Oh, god, no,” Karen says, laughing. “My uterus is a—a no fly zone as far as I’m concerned, but— _babies._ Do I get to be godmother? I’m gonna learn to knit. I have to make it tiny hats.”

“You can absolutely be the godmother to our nonexistent, hypothetical way in the future child,” Foggy says. “Right, Matt?”

“Right,” Matt echoes, grinning, feeling calm and warm and _right_. Foggy kisses his cheek and goes to get him ice, and it almost doesn’t matter for a second that he’s lying to him, to both of them, that he’s going back out tonight to keep lying.

*

When Claire asks, “How’s the boyfriend?” while she’s stitching up a deep cut on his arm, Matt decides to test it out, see how it sounds.

“We’ve been talking about having a kid—distantly,” he says, laughing softly, a huff of breath under the pain.

“Wow,” Claire says, fingers stalling for a second before she continues, “How long have you been together, again?”

“A few months, technically,” Matt says, “but more like a decade.”

“And he still doesn’t know about your, uh, extracurricular activities,” Claire says, finishing the last stitch and gently patting Matt’s shoulder. “Don’t move that arm too much for the next couple of days, I’m going to be pissed the next time you waste my excellent stitches.”

“I’ll tell him eventually,” Matt says. “When things have settled down.”

Claire sighs.

“You think things are ever going to settle down for you, Matt?” she asks.

Matt’s never thought about the future too closely, before now. He knows this, knows that he does what he has to in order to get through whatever’s happening immediately and just hopes that he survives until the next thing.

He’s thinking about the future now.

“Talk to your guy,” Claire says, softly, when he doesn’t answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HE'S NOT GONNA TALK TO HIM. 
> 
> HE'S NOT GONNA DO IT. 
> 
> NELSON VS. MURDOCK.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know,” Foggy says. “If the guy I love was going to have a secret life, I’d really rather it be a wife and kids upstate or something. At least you’d be less likely to _die_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> D:

Matt wants to tell Foggy—well, that’s a lie, really. He _needs_ to tell him, but Foggy fusses over injuries that Matt keeps passing off as accidents and describes baby clothes from the internet to him (“Tiny dinosaur costume, Matt,” he says, “This tiny dinosaur costume is what just made me make that noise that compromised my masculinity.”) and _loves_ him. And Matt can’t risk that, so he keeps lying, even when the bombs go off and the world explodes and he doesn’t even answer his phone to know that Foggy’s cut up and bleeding in a hospital bed.

Foggy believes Matt when he tells him that he just had his phone turned off, went to bed early and woke up to the voicemails after all the fires had been put out. He lets Matt into his apartment and kisses him and lets Matt wrap his arms around him and hold him on the couch, careful of his side.

“Just do me a favor,” Foggy says, burrowing further into Matt’s neck.

“Yeah?” Matt asks.

“Never turn your phone off again,” Foggy says. “I mean, just in case the city explodes or, you know, aliens fall from the sky. It would help me not panic about you being dead somewhere.”

Matt kisses the top of his head, breathes in the scent—a little bit of the hospital still clinging.

“Absolutely,” he murmurs.

*

“Okay,” Karen says. “I know babies are a long way away, but I saw this in a storefront and I just couldn’t help myself.”

She drops a plastic bag on Foggy’s desk, and Foggy picks it up and pulls something out.

“Oh my god,” he says, laughing. “It’s a onesie that says I’m Billing You For This.”

“It was too perfect,” Karen says. “It _demanded_ purchase. Please put it in your hope chest.”

“You’ll have to buy us a hope chest,” Matt says, taking the onesie from Foggy to run his fingers over the lettering on the front. “Thank you, Karen.”

“You’re very welcome,” she says. “If I’m going to be the cool aunt, I’ve got to start spoiling it early.”

“Please don’t make our child love you more than us,” Foggy says.

“No promises,” she replies, sweetly.

As soon as Karen leaves the room, Foggy stands up to touch fingers to Matt’s cheek and pull him into a quick kiss, soft and careful.

“What was that for?” Matt asks, smiling.

“I want to have your babies, dude,” Foggy says, and Matt laughs and kisses him until Karen knocks on the door and tells them to break it up, this is a professional establishment.

*

Stick comes back and he doesn’t tell Foggy.

A kid _dies_ and he didn’t stop it and he doesn’t tell Foggy. Matt feels, in fits and bursts, like he did when he was a kid—scared and desperate and taking anything anybody would give him. Foggy believes him when he stays home with a headache, when he says he’s got a cold that he doesn’t want to spread to him, when he lies and lies and kisses him like maybe he can make up for it.

And then he wakes up on his couch half-dead and he can’t lie anymore and he _can’t make up for it._

“You know,” Foggy says. “If the guy I love was going to have a secret life, I’d really rather it be a wife and kids upstate or something. At least you’d be less likely to _die_.”

“Foggy,” he starts.

“You have to tell me everything,” Foggy says. “Everything, Matt, right now, because I’m freaking out that I just had to call a really hot nurse on a burner phone to come stitch you up so you didn’t bleed to death on the floor.”

Matt takes a shuddering breath, feeling his stitches pull just from trying to sit up.

And then he tells Foggy everything. Everything that he can remember, everything that he can think of, words he’s been swallowing and hiding and locking up behind his teeth—until Foggy stops him to ask him if he set off the bombs, if he shot those cops, and Matt’s eyes go wide.

“Do you really think I’d do something like that?” he asks.

“I didn’t think you’d do anything like any of this, Matt,” Foggy says. “But how the hell would I know?”

Matt blinks away tears and keeps going, tells him about Fisk and everything that’s led up to where they are now, Foggy’s heartbeat never, ever calming down.

“You know that you’re gonna die out there, right?” Foggy asks, eventually. Matt’s never heard his voice sound like that before.

“I won’t,” he says. “I’m careful.”

“You’re _careful_?” Foggy asks, then, under his breath, “He’s careful, ladies and gentlemen, that’s why he only has a hundred stitches in his body right now.”

“I’ll be okay,” Matt says.

“What if you weren’t?” Foggy asks, voice breaking, right there. Matt can smell salt. “What would I do if you died, Matt?”

“I should have told you,” Matt says, instead of answering that. “I know that. I shouldn’t have kept this from you.”

“You weren’t ever going to tell me,” Foggy says.

“I _was_ ,” Matt says. “I promise, eventually—”

“Eventually? You let me fall in _love_ with you first,” Foggy says. “Were you going to tell me before we adopted a kid? Throw me a bone and let me know that I’ll probably end up a single parent because you’re running around trying to get yourself shot?”

“I didn’t want _you_ to get hurt,” Matt says, for the second, maybe third time. “I didn’t tell you _because_ I love you, Foggy.”

“Bullshit,” Foggy says. “That’s _bullshit_ and you know it. You didn’t tell me because it was _hard,_ and then you dragged me into it anyway. And Karen and—our _firm_.”

Matt can’t refute that, because it’s all true. He’s right. Foggy watches him hang his head and makes a frustrated noise.

“God,” he says, in a rush of breath, “I can’t believe I was going to start a family with someone who’s been lying to me since the day we met.”

“Was?” Matt whispers, face crumpling.

Foggy’s silent, and Matt doesn’t think that you can actually hear a heart break but this is what it would sound like, shallow breath and frantic beat, and he doesn’t know if it’s his or if it’s Foggy’s but everything _hurts_.

“I can’t do this, Matt,” Foggy says, eventually, and his voice sounds broken. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Foggy, no,” Matt says, then after a beat, no noise but Foggy’s footsteps, “ _Foggy_.”

Foggy shuts the door behind him, doesn’t even slam it. Matt wishes he had. It would have seemed less final, like the middle of the fight instead of the end of— _everything_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all I don't write angst 
> 
> this is not something I do
> 
> help


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt doesn’t leave his apartment for two days, doesn’t move at all the first day, limps to the kitchen on the second—leaves the city to fester outside. He ignores his phone when Karen calls, and he doesn’t answer the door until he hears her say, “Matt, please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JUST BREEZING THROUGH THE REST OF S1 SO I CAN TIME LEAP FORWARD TO BABIES.

Matt doesn’t leave his apartment for two days, doesn’t move at all the first day, limps to the kitchen on the second—leaves the city to fester outside. He ignores his phone when Karen calls, and he doesn’t answer the door until he hears her say, “Matt, _please_.”

She gasps a little when she sees him.

“A car did that to you?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Matt says, stepping aside to let her in. She walks into the living room, silence suddenly heavy and important.

“You’re sticking to that story?” she asks. “Have you seen this place—shit, of course you haven’t.”

Matt huffs out a laugh, wincing at how brittle it comes out.

“Why are you here, Karen?” he asks.

“Foggy won’t tell me anything,” she says. “He’s so upset, Matt, and you—who did this to you?”

“Nobody,” he says. “It was an accident.”

“An accident,” she repeats, scoffing. “Right.”

“You talked to Foggy?” Matt asks.

Matt called him ten times. One after the other, crying and pathetic. He didn’t answer any of them, and Matt would have broken his phone if he’d had enough energy to throw it.

“Yeah,” Karen says. “He just said a bunch of vague bullshit, though. Care to clarify? Are you two—okay?”

“No,” Matt says, dropping into a chair.

“No?” Karen echoes. “What do you mean?”

“We’re not okay,” Matt says. “I fucked up, and he left.”

Karen’s silent before she crosses the room to put a hand on Matt’s shoulder, saying, “He’ll come back. Couples fight.”

“Not like this,” Matt says.

“Are you gonna tell me about it?” she asks.

“No,” Matt says, simply, and Karen stiffens, her hand tightening for a second before it drops to the side.

“Of course not,” she says. “Why the hell would I need to know, right? It’s not like I’m in the middle of it or anything.”

“I’m sorry, I— _really_ , I just can’t,” Matt says, and he means it, but he’s not going to bring Karen into this, too. He thinks she might soften a little, breathing in slowly and letting it out.

She paces across the room, maybe trying to calm down, and then she says, “Well, I don’t know anything, clearly, but one of you needs to get your shit together.”

When Matt doesn’t say anything else, sinks lower in the chair and shuts his eyes, Karen starts to say more before she makes an aborted noise and heads for the door instead. Her heels tap sharply with every step and the noise reverberates from floor to ceiling. 

*

Foggy ignores him, the handful of times they pass each other in the office, but Matt can hear his heart race and it sounds like he’s terrified and it makes Matt feel sick.

So, he swallows it down, and he does what he has to do, ignoring the smell of perfume that was sticking to Foggy’s skin when he passed by even though the thought of it makes him feel like going back to bed and never getting up again.

The scent’s still there when Foggy shows up at the gym, when he tells him about missing Ben’s funeral because he was getting help from Marci and everything hits Matt at once, a rush to his head as he says, “Of course. Marci.”

“What?” Foggy says, then, drawing in a sharp breath, “. . .god, Matt, could you smell her on me or something?”

“Her perfume,” Matt says.

Foggy makes a soft sound that Matt can’t place before he says, slowly, a little clipped, “What do you think happened?”

“I don’t know, Foggy,” Matt says, hurt even though he doesn’t even have the right to be. It’s still his fault, whatever happens between them.

“Do you really think I’d cheat on you?” Foggy asks.

“It’s not—cheating,” Matt says, quietly, turning away. “Not if we’re done.”

Foggy sighs.

“We’re not done, Matt,” he says. Matt looks up, eyebrows furrowed, and Foggy steps forward to wrap a hand around Matt’s forearm, thumb stroking his skin. “I need time and I don’t know what we’re going to do to fix this, but. . .I’m not letting you go.”

Matt takes a shaky breath, shifts to take Foggy’s hand in his instead.

“After we take this bastard down,” he says, “I’m going to make it up to you.”

“Let’s focus on the first part for now,” Foggy says, squeezing Matt’s hand before he lets it go.

*

When Fisk’s empire crumbles around him, Karen pours the drinks and pushes Foggy’s chair close to Matt’s before he sits down, coughing significantly. Foggy laughs.

“We’re working on it,” he tells her, and Matt smiles into his glass.

Karen sighs elaborately and says, “God, _good_. I thought I was going to have to fire you both.”

“Does she have that power?” Foggy asks, turning towards Matt.

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” Matt says.

Of course, it’s not over. It was too neatly wrapped to be real, and Fisk escapes.

Out on the street, with Karen waiting in a cab nearby, Foggy grabs Matt’s shoulder and pulls him into a kiss, brief and hard, before he says, “Do _not_ die. Do what you have to do but don’t you dare die. Okay?”

“Okay,” Matt says, breathlessly.

Foggy pushes him gently towards the cab, walking away as soon as he does.

Matt sits down heavily, pressing his fingers to his mouth. He’s going to win this one.

*

Fisk goes down, and the first thing Matt does afterwards is crawl into Foggy’s bedroom window. Foggy’s streaming the news on his laptop, a tinny voice reporting that Fisk is back in police custody, no word yet on how.

Foggy shuts it when Matt steps down onto his floor; his heartbeat speeds up then settles.

“I want to say good job,” Foggy says, “but, now that I see the get-up, I don’t think I can.”

Matt pulls the mask off, breathes a little easier.

“The horns don’t work for you?” he jokes, tentatively, and Foggy laughs.

“I didn’t even notice the horns, I was too distracted by how tight it is,” he says. “Hand it over.”

Matt walks over to hand Foggy the mask, listening to the soft scrape of his fingertips over it.

“Wow,” Foggy says, softly. “These are the dumbest things I’ve ever seen.”

Matt smiles down at him helplessly, shifting on his feet until Foggy reaches up to wrap fingers around his wrist and squeeze it gently.

“Go steal some clothes and change out of that,” Foggy says. “I can’t look directly at you without laughing and I don’t want to laugh right now.”

Matt nods gratefully and goes to Foggy’s dresser to feel through his clothes until he finds a t-shirt, a pair of boxers that sit low on his hips. He almost goes to the bathroom to change but feels desperate and hoping, adrenaline sitting right underneath his skin, so instead he listens to Foggy’s heart and breath speed up as he pulls off the suit.

“Looks better off,” Foggy says.

“You think so?” Matt asks, changing into the clothes and moving to sit next to Foggy, hesitating before Foggy takes his hand. He sits close, feeling like he should be asking permission for it, but Foggy just sighs and turns to wrap his arms around Matt and pull him into his chest.

“I’m still pissed,” he says, firmly, “but you’re _alive_ and you did something really good tonight, Matt, so I’m going to ignore it.”

“You don’t have to,” Matt says, pressing in closer. “You can be mad at me, you _should_ be, just don’t—”

“Don’t what?” Foggy asks, when Matt draws off.

Matt breathes in deeply before he drops his head and says barely audible, “Don’t _leave_.”

Foggy rests his cheek against Matt’s hair.

“I can do that,” he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THEY'RE OKAY.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Matt holds their baby, a couple of weeks before they bring her home, she is one month old and her heartbeat is steady and strong and Matt has never been more in love or more terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ME: LOOK AT THIS BABY VIDEO  
> MY MOM: are you crying right now  
> ME: I'M IN A REALLY WEIRD PLACE
> 
> ANYWAY, I just did a convenient time leap into the future and ignored all the difficulties of adoption because I'm not here for realism, I'm here for baby snuggling.

The first time Matt holds their baby, a couple of weeks before they bring her home, she is one month old and her heartbeat is steady and strong and Matt has never been more in love or more terrified.

“She’s so small, Foggy,” he says.

Foggy is pressed up against his back, chin hooked over Matt’s shoulder. He’s shaking, just a little, and Matt’s pretty sure that he’s crying but he’s too distracted to tell. Their baby reaches up to touch his chin, smiling, and Matt draws in a sharp breath and runs a finger over the back of her hand where it’s soft and warm.

Her name is Mary. She was brought in with the name; the adoption coordinator says her mother is young and wasn’t ready to raise her, doesn’t want to be in the picture.

“Mary Murdock,” Foggy says, for the thousandth time, and Matt laughs, wetly.

“Mary,” he repeats, holding her closer.

“Alright,” Foggy says, leaning in to kiss Matt’s cheek. “Stop hogging her.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can let her go,” Matt says, smiling at Foggy when he shuffles around to stand in front of them.

“Yeah, yeah,” Foggy says, warmly. “Give ‘er.”

Matt rubs his thumb against the soft curve of her cheek before he carefully places her in Foggy’s arms, listening to her shift and coo as she settles against Foggy’s chest.

“Hi, Mary,” Foggy says, so quietly that Matt shifts closer to lay a hand on his arm just to feel the vibrations of his voice, biting his lip to keep from crying just from the smell of them together. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

*

Karen yells, “Pictures!” as soon as she steps into the office the next morning, and Foggy passes off his phone automatically.

“Just to warn you,” Foggy says, “She is the most perfect baby who’s ever existed, and you’ll be ruined for other babies from this point on.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Karen says, hushed and high-pitched as she scrolls through them. “You’re right, she is.”

“Are you still coming over this weekend to help finish the nursery?” Matt asks.

“Yes, and I’m bringing the pile of baby stuff that I’ve been secretly accumulating the past two weeks because I keep getting tipsy on wine and shopping on Amazon Prime,” she says. “Also, I’m bringing wine.”

“We told you to stop buying things,” Matt says, laughing. “We’ve got it covered.”

“Mary’s going to have to get into college on the strength of her intelligence and character,” Foggy says, “but, otherwise, totally covered.”

“Well, blame whoever came up with two day shipping and easy access to adorable baby clothing,” Karen says. “Now, tell me everything about her.”

“She has blue eyes and Matt cried,” Foggy says.

“Don’t tell me _you_ didn’t cry,” Karen says.

“He wept openly,” Matt says, grinning when Foggy makes an outraged noise.

“I _might_ have shed a few fatherly tears,” he says. Matt raises his eyebrows at him, and he breaks, adding, “Okay, there was open weeping. Who could blame me?”

“Not me,” Matt says. “Will you tell me about her eyes again?”

Foggy reaches out to grab Matt’s hand.

“As long as you won’t laugh at me for using the word sapphire,” he says.

*

A few months after they started the adoption process, they finally moved into together, into a slightly bigger apartment that’s closer to their office. It’s got a tiny room that’s just had a post-it stuck to the wall with the words “future Murdock baby’s nursery” on it forever until they got the news about Mary.

They settled on a soft yellow that Karen helped pick out, and they paint it together with all the windows open wide.

“I can’t think of a description that’s not completely cheesy,” Foggy says, when they’ve finished and he’s looking at the finished product.

“I’ll settle for cheesy,” Matt says.

Foggy sighs and wraps his arm around Matt’s waist, pulling him close to his side.

“It looks kind of like. . .the sunlight that comes through your curtains when you get to sleep late,” he says. “Like ten o’clock on a Saturday.”

“Yeah, alright,” Matt says, smiling. “I remember that.”

*

Karen carefully describes every baby outfit to Matt as she pulls them out of a series of tote bags, laying them out in neat piles at her feet.

“This is a tiny Captain America dress,” she says.

Foggy calls, from the nursery, “You’re _kidding_.”

“It’s navy blue and it has cute little shields on it,” she calls back.

“Ugh, that’s cute,” Foggy says, from the doorway. “That’s arguably too cute.”

“Did you finish building the crib?” Matt asks.

“Don’t ask me that question like you don’t know the answer,” Foggy replies, falling beside him on the couch with a groan. “Are you sure your super powers don’t extend to Ikea furniture?”

“Pretty sure,” Matt says, leaning into him and handing over his glass of wine.

“I’ll go stare angrily at it later,” Foggy says. “It’s beaten my spirit.”

“Oh, tiny leather jacket!” Karen says.

“Shut up,” Foggy says.

“I _won’t_ ,” Karen says, laughing and tossing it to him.

“Damn, give this a feel, Murdock,” Foggy says, handing it to Matt. “Our daughter’s going to be so much cooler than all of the other babies.”

 He runs his fingers over the soft, fake leather, smiling softly.

“Our _daughter_ ,” he says, angling his head towards Foggy, who leans in to kiss him once, firmly.

“I also can’t believe it,” Foggy says, smoothing out Matt’s hair before he turns away. “Karen, give me the Cap dress, I need to hold it and have emotions.”

That night, Karen falls asleep on the couch, and Foggy crawls into bed awhile after Matt does, defeated by the crib once again.

“The directions are backwards and in Swedish,” he says, “and I’m drunk.”

“We’ll try again tomorrow,” Matt says, wrapping an arm around him when Foggy curls up next to him. “Karen can probably do it, she’s good at things.”

“She is,” Foggy agrees, yawning and pressing a kiss to Matt’s jaw.

They lay quietly until Matt says, “Hey.”

“Mmm?”

“Thanks for doing this thing with me,” he says. Foggy smiles against his neck.

“No one I’d rather do it with,” he replies, and Matt pulls him closer, kisses his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my steady hormonal breakdown over this universe and the kidfic that I'm forcing all of you to write will eventually be able to be tracked at [my nelson-murdock baby tag](http://returnsandreturns.tumblr.com/tagged/nelson+murdock+baby+tag) when I finish retagging stuff.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary cries the entire cab ride home, a steady gasping wail from her car seat between them while Matt pets her head, traces the soft curve of her belly, and Foggy says, “I know, I know, baby girl, but we’ll be home soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little tiny transitioning update because I've spent way more time yelling on tumblr and sitting and wistfully thinking about this story than actually writing it ~*~

Mary cries the entire cab ride home, a steady gasping wail from her car seat between them while Matt pets her head, traces the soft curve of her belly, and Foggy says, “I know, I know, baby girl, but we’ll be home soon.”

 _Home_ , Matt thinks—and he’s got a hair trigger for sentimentality lately, but it means something different now. Their home with a soft yellow nursery and baby-proofed outlets and a closet half-filled with diapers from the impromptu baby shower Foggy’s mother insisted on throwing them.

Mary cries up the stairs and through the tour that Foggy gives her, bouncing her gently and quietly narrating every room while Matt follows helplessly behind.

“This is yours,” Foggy says, in the nursery. “You live here now.”

Mary keeps crying.

“I’m pretty sure that high-pitched scream right there means she likes it,” Foggy says, confidently.

“Probably,” Matt says, stepping closer.

“Here, maybe she’ll calm down for you,” Foggy says, and Matt holds out his hands for her, holding her close because she’s alternating between stiff and squirming and he doesn’t know yet how to hear the difference between the two before it happens. He sinks to the floor and hugs her close to him so she’s sprawled against his chest, patting her back softly, and her cries finally soften to whimpers.

“Well, girls always did like you more than me,” Foggy says, dropping down beside them.

“Only at first,” Matt says. Mary clenches and unclenches her fists around the fabric of his shirt, and he can’t stand the thought of trying to move her at all, so he just loosens his hold and lets her squirm around until she’s sniffling against his shoulder. “You got ‘em in the end.”

“Yeah,” Foggy says, distractedly, probably because he’s watching Mary.

“Do you want to hold her again?” Matt asks.

“You keep her,” Foggy says. “I like seeing you together. You look like catalogue models. You should be selling matching family cashmere sweaters, but with, like, a tall hot wife and a golden retriever.”

“No dogs,” Matt says, angling his head towards Foggy until he obliges and leans in to kiss him, so Matt can murmur, “No wives,” against his mouth.

Mary babbles quietly against Matt’s collarbone, and Matt says, "Good point," and holds her a little tighter. 

*

Matt waits until he’s sure Foggy is asleep before he slips back out to the nursery to listen to Mary. It took a solid hour and a half to finally put her down for the night, Foggy singing softly to her, Matt rocking her in his arms until she eventually went to sleep. She’s still asleep now, two or so hours later, taking little soft breaths, and Matt barely keeps himself from scooping her back up to listen to them closer.

“Mary,” he whispers, just to test it again. His chest feels too tight. “Mary Murdock.”

He curves his hand around the top of the crib, careful not to move it, taking a shaky breath.

“I’ll be so good to you,” he says, quiet as he can, watching her chest move slowly as she sleeps, “I promise, I’ll love you so much.”

He sits cross-legged on the floor by her crib and listens and listens, the same soft steady heartbeat, wispy huffs of breath. He listens until he hears Foggy wake up, vaguely, then walk in a few minutes later to sink to the ground next to Matt and wrap an arm around him, press a kiss to his cheek.

“Come back to bed, honey,” he murmurs, clearly still half-asleep. “She’ll still be here in the morning.”

“I want to make sure I can hear her,” Matt says.

“’s what the baby monitor’s for. She’s okay, Matt,” Foggy says. “She’ll be okay. Come on, you’ve gotta sleep. You can get back up if she cries.”

Matt lets Foggy pull him to his feet and lead him back to their bed, curling up around his back and pressing a kiss to the nape of Matt’s neck.

“Can you still hear her heartbeat from here?” he asks, softly. Matt concentrates, and Foggy’s quiet behind him, holding his breath.

“Yeah,” Matt says, smiling. “Yeah, I can.”

“Okay,” Foggy says, sighing. “Good.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First steps!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing a bunch of fluff prompts on Tumblr which means MORE BABIES.

“She’s not going to learn to walk if you never put her down,” Foggy sing-songs, from the couch, while Matt walks around the room with Mary on his hip and talks softly back when she babbles out almost-words.

“I put her down all the time,” Matt says, stopping in front of him, hoisting Mary up a little higher. “I put her down _plenty_.”

“Sure you do,” Foggy says.

“In fact, just this morning,” Matt continues, “I was not holding our child.”

“Because I let you sleep in,” Foggy says, laughing, kicking out to poke Matt’s leg with his foot. “You stole her from me as soon as you dragged your ass out of bed, Murdock, and it’s been a cuddlefest ever since.”

“Hmm,” Matt says, noncommittally, lifting Mary up to hug her against his chest, so she giggles and wraps her arms around his neck.

“I’m making a point,” Foggy says. “Don’t be adorable at me.”

Matt sits down next to him and Mary automatically crawls into Foggy’s lap.

“What was your point again?” Matt asks.

“Our daughter’s developmental milestones–” Foggy starts, and then Mary stands up shakily in his lap to press a wet kiss to his cheek. Foggy’s quiet for a second before he groans and hugs her close, muttering, “Jesus Christ.”

“Weren’t you saying something important?” Matt asks, grinning.  

“You two planned this,” Foggy says. “Get over here, it’s a cuddlefest.”

Matt scoots closer so Foggy can slide an arm around his waist, sinking down to rest his head against Foggy’s shoulder, one hand covering Foggy’s that’s resting on Mary’s back. Mary says something with both vowels and consonants in it.

“She’ll walk,” Matt says. “She’s already a genius, listen to that.”

“I know,” Foggy says. “I should be counting my blessings, she’ll probably start parkouring at age two.”

“Oh, we won’t let her do that until she’s five, at least,” Matt says, kissing his shoulder. “We’re good parents. Responsible.”

Foggy kisses Mary on the top of the head, then turns to do the same to Matt, who smiles in that really dumb cute way that he does when he’s actually happy.

“We’re _great_ parents,” he says.

“The best,” Matt agrees, softly.

*

“We’ve got standing effing _down_ ,” Foggy says, kneeling behind Mary. “I mean, minimal wobbling, not holding onto anything. You’re a world class stander, kid.” 

Mary makes a cautious _whoa_ noise, tipping forward a little. Matt’s sitting cross-legged on the floor a few feet away from her. 

“Can you go to your dad, honey?” Foggy says, and Matt smiles, opens his arms so Mary squeals and raises her arms up. 

There’s a brief stand-off when Matt doesn’t immediately scoop her up, when Mary murmurs, “Da, da, da,” sadly and Matt’s face crumples a little bit. 

“ _Don’t_ let her con you,” Foggy says, laughing.

“But she’s really good at it,” Matt says. 

 “Hey, quite contrary, why don’t you go give your dad a hug?” Foggy says, steadying her carefully when she starts to wobble again and then letting go when Mary starts moving her legs. They both hold their breath for a long moment until she takes one step.

“ _Foggy_ ,” Matt whispers.

“Oh my god. You can tell, right?” Foggy asks

“Yeah,” Matt says, leaning in a little. “I can–I can tell. Keep going, baby, you can do it.” 

Mary takes three more dramatic wobbling _perfect_  steps before she pitches forward and Matt moves quickly to grab her and sweep her up into a hug.

Foggy hoots and applauds, and Mary squirms and yells happily, clutching at Matt’s shirt and gazing up at him when he beams at her.

“You did good!” Foggy says, crawling over to ruffle her hair then leaning in to press a kiss to Matt’s cheek. “Once we get walking down, what’s next? Punching? Roundhouse kicking?”  

“Let’s try talking first,” Matt says, dryly. 

“And then Baby’s first street-fighting lesson,” Foggy says, serenely, wrapping his arms around both of them to squash Mary between them. 


End file.
